


i can’t be gay till he comes back

by tommythetommo



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:27:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26992939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommythetommo/pseuds/tommythetommo
Summary: Over a few spooky shenanigans, Jimmy's attraction to a certain under-butler grows (and Thomas' persists).
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Comments: 13
Kudos: 51





	i can’t be gay till he comes back

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of this story, Alfred's and Mr Molesley's time at Downton overlap and Daisy's birthday is in October. Title from the song 'Where Is My Man?'

They were in Thomas’ room after a hard day’s work, tired enough to leave the servants’ hall and avoid further interactions with the rest of the staff, but not too tired for a round of charades. They were playing an alternate version where, instead of phrases, they acted out famous people. They didn’t always play games, or if they did, they usually stuck to cards, but Thomas was in a particularly good mood and Jimmy had been gloomy all week because the stray cat that often found her way into the house had suffered a mysterious death. Jimmy had grown rather fond of her, even going as far as naming it Gladys (after the ugliest school mate he remembered, because she once made fun of him for being bad at math and the toothless cat did share some natural resemblance to her anyway) and her gory passing had casted somewhat of a shadow on his days. Death did that quite easily to him.

So, Thomas was trying to lift his spirits by ridiculing himself with wild hand movements, pulling grotesque expressions and tossing years of carefully built prestige out the window. And he was succeeding, quite frankly, earning shy giggles from Jimmy at first and loud, uncontrollable cackles soon after. Then it was Jimmy’s turn, and he was delighted to learn he could make Thomas laugh just the same. His cap stuffed with socks to resemble a bowler hat, the black pomade smeared on his cupid’s bow and the broom stick playing cane were enough to send him howling. Jimmy wasn’t used to being so clownish, at least not on purpose, and he knew Thomas was likely to never take him seriously again, but he found he didn’t really mind. Thomas never guessed who he was imitating, even though it was very obviously Charles Chaplin, but it didn’t matter because none of them were playing to win anymore. Then Thomas took over while Jimmy sat on the chair and the night escalated to a point of no return. He quickly but elegantly took of his shirt entirely, rolled up his undershirt so his stomach was exposed, used the same black pomade to paint his eyelids, and wrapped his discarded shirt around his head like a crown. Jimmy watched him silently, gaping a little, until Thomas finished and posed, one hand behind his head and the other arm stretched delicately to the side, looking directly at him. Jimmy’s eyes widened with realisation, his face shifting from curious confusion to plain shock and then lost it again.

“Theda fucking Bara.” Jimmy managed to say and continued snickering, eyes teary from laughing so much.

“Yes!” Thomas cheered and laughed along. Then he accidentally snorted and they doubled over once more, unable to stop laughing.

“You’ve actually gone mad!” Jimmy went on, in between obnoxious wheezing. “I was thinkin’- there’s no way he’s actually doing her, he’s-” He was interrupted by a vain knock and the sound of the door opening.

“Mr Barrow, I was wondering if you found- Oh. Oh lord.”

As Alfred took in the scene before him, Jimmy stood to a threatening stance and Thomas froze in place, all amusement drained from their faces. When Thomas regained control, he swiftly turned on his feet, so he was facing the wall and hastily rolled down his undershirt.

“Alfred if you say one word about this you may live to regret it.” Jimmy said in his harshest tone, his hand curling into a tense fist by his side. He didn’t make it clear whether he was warning him to refrain from making a comment or snitching on them to Mr Carson, but if Alfred’s wide eyes were anything to go by, he got his point across either way. Out of the corner of his eye, Jimmy could se Thomas furiously wiping the pomade from his eyes, which reminded Jimmy his face was also stained. 

“Why do you even knock if you’re just gonnu push your way in?” He asked rhetorically as he took some tissue from Thomas’ nightstand and wiped his upper lip.

“I didn’t think he’d mind.” He frowned at Jimmy while his brain tried to work out what had been happening and then turned his face to the other man.

“I’m sorry, Mr Barrow, I didn’t mean to barge in. I just wondered if you’d found the brush that I- that went missing this morning.”

“Don’t say it went missing when you lost it.’’ Thomas said, now with a mostly clean face and his shirt hanging open but covering his arms. Jimmy didn’t miss his bare skin because the picture of Thomas’ exposed torso was engraved on his head forever and would probably keep him company for the rest of his nights. 

Jimmy scoffed mockingly and Alfred glared at him, then straightened into impossible heights and opened his mouth to say something, but when he couldn’t come up with anything, he just held that proud face he used whenever Ivy (or Mr Carson) was in the room. Thomas ran a hand through his hair and continued.

“I said I’d come fetch you if I did, I didn’t come to fetch you, so what do you gather?” He was being unnecessarily hostile, (when was he not, though) perhaps to balance how exposed he felt. Oh, well, he’d never been particularly kind to Alfred, anyway. He grabbed his lighter and cigarette case, took one to his mouth and lit it.

“Of course, I’m sorry, Mr Barrow.” If Alfred was annoyed at him, he made a very good job of looking sincerely apologetic. Thomas exhaled the smoke.

“I’ll deal with Mr Carson if he gives you hell for it.” He added, for good measure. He _was_ feeling generous. Alfred looked openly surprised and Jimmy snapped his head around to give him a quizzical look. Was it so out of character for him to stick up for his subordinates? Yes, it probably was.

“Thank you very much, Mr Barrow. Have a good night.” He left without saying goodbye to Jimmy and closed the door behind him.

“What a tosser.” Jimmy said, like he couldn’t help himself.

“Well, that’s that, then. Time for bed.” Thomas said around his cigarette.

“What? Surely not if Alfred is still around, I could stay a while longer.” Jimmy whined.

Thomas stared for a little bit.

“Sure, if you want to.” He didn’t smile but that’s only because he was smoking.

“Could I have one?” He motioned to the case on the nightstand.

“Must you always steal mine? You know they’re not even that expensive.” He complained while he pulled one out.

“Oh, come off it, Thomas.” He rolled his eyes and took the cigarette he was being handed.

“That’s Mr Barrow, to you.”

“What? No it’s not. I can call you Thomas.” Jimmy frowned.

“That privilege was unfortunately revoked when you witnessed my Hollywood alter ego.” He said while he lit the cigarette on Jimmy’s mouth, which shook a little when Jimmy chuckled.

“You can stay, but no more charades. Can’t afford to lose the respect of the whole household.”

“You can’t lose something you never had, Mr Barrow.” Jimmy plopped down on the bed.

“Oi.” Thomas threw a cushion at him, but Jimmy caught it and placed it below his head.

“What would your artistic name be, then?” Jimmy asked.

“Aros Thorbawm.” Thomas answered without missing a beat and sat down on the chair that was now next to the bed.

“ _What_?” Jimmy asked, incredulous.

“It’s a play on the letters on my name.”

“How- Blimey, you’ve thought about this before.” Jimmy gaped. Thomas looked him straight in the eye and smirked. Jimmy’s stomach did a thing.

“So, every time I’ve been looking at you thinking ‘oh wow, such a smart man, I wonder what he’s thinking about’ you’ve just been coming up with your stage name and picturing yourself in the arms of some young American actor.” Jimmy teased, going just a bit too far.

“How often do you look at me and wonder what I’m thinking?” Thomas was smirking still, but a little different now. The cloud of smoke around them made Jimmy feel pleasantly intimidated.

“Don’t flatter yourself, there’s not many interesting people to look at here, is there?” Jimmy mumbled and looked away.

“But I’m one of them.”

Jimmy didn’t say anything for a second but eventually he locked eyes with him again.

“Yes, you look good in a livery. Mind your head though, it’s about to bump into the ceiling.”

“Mind your job, you are about to lose it.” Thomas said pointing with his finger, but he was blushing a little.

“What would my stage name be, then?” Jimmy asked playfully.

“I don’t know if you’d be any good with one. You start crying every time someone calls you anything other than Jimmy.”

“I don’t cry, thank you very much.” Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Come on, give me one.” He nudged the air with his foot as if to encourage him and, on a very dangerous impulse, Thomas caught it by the ankle and tickled his sole.

“Aargh-” Jimmy shrieked and twisted his foot out of Thomas’ grasp, but Thomas kept going. “Stop stop stop-” Thomas laughed openly at him, but finally let him go. Jimmy was on his stomach now, glaring at him and trying to catch his breath.

“You bastard.” He said, panting.

“Charlie Grantham.”

“Who?” Jimmy asked as he rearranged himself on the bed, retrieving the cigarette that went flying out of his hand and onto the ground.

“I think your stage name should be Charlie Grantham.”

“What? What does that have to do with my real name?” Jimmy asked with a pinched face.

“Nothing. But imagine if you made it in Hollywood and Mr Carson had to read that name in the papers. He’d go absolutely mad.” Thomas smirked.

“Oh my God, you’re right.” Jimmy nodded as he pictured it. “Why Charlie though?” He asked, confused. Thomas stared at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t get it. Was it because of my amazing impression from before?” He winked.

“No, your impression was terrible. No, Charlie after Mr Carson’s name.” Thomas explained like it was obvious.

“What?” Jimmy sat up slightly. “Mr Carson’s name is Charlie?”

“You didn’t _know_?” Thomas asked, incredulous and amused.

“No, I didn’t _know_. Are you serious?”

“That- Yes, I’m serious, how did you not know?”

“I don’t know, don’t laugh, how was I supposed to know?” Jimmy paused. “Charlie. Huh… It sounds a bit clownish for him.” He looked back at Thomas and scrunched up his nose.

“He used to be in the circus.” Thomas added, deadpan.

“Dear God, please let that be true.”

“It is.”

“How do you know?”

“I have my ways.”

“Right, then, that’s it. You and I are leaving service, we’ll move to Hollywood and start selling The Grantham and Thorbawm Show, because if it’s possible for Mr Carson to have been in a circus, anything is.” Jimmy pointed at him with his cigarette end for emphasis and laid back on the bed. 

They played cards and smoked more cigarettes and Thomas pictured what I’d be like if they did.

Later that night, around three, when silence reigned, everyone’s sleep was abruptly interrupted by a loud scream in the male corridor. Thomas wasn’t going to bother checking in, but the many footsteps that made their way to the source of the noise piqued his curiosity enough to get up. Jimmy met him in the hallway and together with a grumpy Mr Carson and the rest of the confused male servants, they approached the room of a very distressed hall boy. The little crowd that formed prevented them to get a clear shot of the young man, but through the walls they could make out the voice of Billy explaining himself, on the brink of tears.

“There was someone on my bed, Mr Carson. They were sitting and staring, right there on my bed!”

“No, there wasn’t, Billy. T’was just a dream.” That was George, his friend and roommate, trying to bring him peace.

“Enough of that, Billy. It was a very vivid nightmare and you’re right to be anguished, but would you please keep it down? We all have to be up very soon and I’d appreciate a bit of silence.” Mr Carson scolded as he left the room. He looked back at all the people gathered in the hall, now including some of the women, and frowned. “Everyone, get back to your rooms at once.”

As they scattered, Billy’s voice travelled through once more.

“It weren’t a dream, George. Someone was there, I saw him.”

Jimmy, who had only left Thomas’ room two hours ago, found the under-butler amidst everyone else talking in hushed conversations.

“It must be cause we’re nearing Halloween.” He joked.

“The only thing that would scare me this Halloween is if you learned how to be a good footman.” He smirked and Jimmy gaped.

“Cheeky.”

“That, I am. Now go to sleep, you’ll be lamenting this tomorrow.” He got an eyeroll and a _goodnight, Mr Barrow_ , and went back to bed.

Jimmy received a letter the following morning. As unusual as it was, he didn’t wait to open it like perhaps he should have done. While reading it, he fought hard to keep his expression blank and put the letter back in the little envelope when he finished. When Thomas raised a curious eyebrow at him, he shook his head subtly and kept eating, so Thomas didn’t ask again.

The content of the letter swam around in his head all day.

After dinner, Jimmy left for the backyard on his own, contemplated smoking but didn’t quite find the appeal when he was alone and settled for gazing at the stars for some time. It was a while before the silence was interrupted by the sound of the door opening and someone making their way to him.

“Right. What is it? You’ve been avoiding me like the plague.” Thomas said as he approached Jimmy, his hands in his pockets, hair slicked back but a bit looser after a full day’s work, the very picture of smooth.

“Have I? didn’t mean to.” Jimmy offered, distractedly.

“Is something the matter? Didn’t you get enough sleep?”

“Nah, it’s not that. Just needed a little time to think-”

“For a change, yes, I understand.” Thomas teased, but it got lost on Jimmy, who was deep in thought. He gave him a blank look and then he caught up.

“Shut up, this is serious.” He said around a sincere smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Sorry.”

“A mate from back home has been sent to prison.” He explained while Thomas searched for something in his pocket.

“What? What for?” He asked curiously and lit a cigarette.

“On the grounds of his homosexuality.” Jimmy said solemnly, looking to his face to gauge his reaction but avoiding his eyes.

Thomas visibly tensed and remained silent while he smoked, which in his case spoke volumes.

“He managed to write to you?” His tone had gone sour albeit conversational and his expression sober, his eyes trying to find the edge of the dark sky.

“No, this is his brother, we were quite close the three of us, but we don’t often write, I’m not good with words. This feels worthy, though.” He waved the envelope softly.

“It must be really hard on him.” Thomas mused distractedly.

“I think they’re gonna be alright, Greg’s boss, that’s the one in prison by the way, he has contacts in the police and he’s never had a problem with him, it seems he can get him out but-“ Jimmy went on and then his voice dropped to a disbelieving sigh. “but I never knew, Thomas.”

“What do you mean?”

It occurred to Jimmy that Thomas was taking part in the conversation without being really present and he wondered if it was really fair to want him to stay and hear this when it made him feel that way.

“I never knew he was like that, ain’t that funny?”

“What’s funny about it?” Thomas turned to face him and Jimmy met his eyes.

“Well, you know, that I was friends with him and now I’m friends with you and, like, how common is it for a bloke to be friends with two different-”

“Two different _what_?” Jimmy had missed the moment Thomas’ face went dark and the venom in his voice took him by surprise. He went silent for a second which only seemed to make it worse, his eyes showed genuine confusion and Thomas looked about ready to strike him in the face. When he imagined what Thomas was interpreting he couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

“No- no, no, no- Not bad, I mean…” He took a deep breath and spoke softly. “What are the odds, you know, that I’d be friends with both of you and-”

“I don’t know, Jimmy, I don’t even know the bloke.”

“Yeah, I know, that’s what I mean, you’re not that similar but you have _that_ in common and I became friends with _both_ of you…” Jimmy was losing his cool trying to explain himself, he cursed at his own incapability to make any sense.

“We’re not all the same, Jimmy.” Thomas rolled his eyes and shifted his weight, turning a little towards the door and away from Jimmy.

“I _know_ , Thomas, but what if I noticed something, or I did it on purpose, like, subconsciously or something.”

“What are you on about?” Thomas had never been so openly irritated at Jimmy before.

“Like, what does it say about me that I got so close to two different people like your sort?” He mused.

“It says nothing, Jimmy.” He threw his cigarette on the ground and put it out with his foot as he spoke. “This conversation, on the other hand tells me maybe you aren’t as comfortable with the whole thing as I thought, so I’ll leave you alone now.” He stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and left to go inside.

“What, no, get back here, Thomas.” Jimmy hadn’t meant for his voice to be so high pitched.

“It’s alright.” Thomas said dismissively from the door, without looking back.

The next day they barely spoke a word to each other. Thomas made a point to keep his distance and directed all necessary orders to Alfred, even though Jimmy was first footman. It was ridiculous, annoying, and _weird_. Alfred actually managed to spill the darkest sauce on Lady Mary’s whitest dress during dinner, it was the best moment of Jimmy’s entire career and he couldn’t manage a full second of complicit eye contact with his friend because of this pettiness. Thomas was behaving like a child and Jimmy was having none of it. Jimmy himself knew immaturity and silliness all too well, but he prided himself on his capability to talk things through, no matter how difficult. Sometimes it took more time and courage than others, but he knew relationships occasionally meant sacrifice, and he was willing to pay that price if it meant he could keep an important person in his life. He hated the mind games, the manipulation and wasting time, especially when it came to Thomas, because God knows how much of that they’d already wasted. That’s another reason why he felt so foolish after the whole O’Brien affair, he could hardly believe how easy he made it for her to coax him into all her twisted plots and he was blind to all of it. He’d hurt Thomas then and he’d hurt him now, but they were going to talk about it, _damn it,_ this wasn’t a schoolyard, they were adults, and they would work it out as such.

He followed him when he left outside for a smoke just before their supper and cornered him. Quite literally.

“Mr Barrow, may I have a word?” He used the appropriate title for the sake of the busy hall boy crossing the yard just then, but when he saw Thomas put out his newly lit cigarette he rushed to him.

“ _Thomas_.” He hissed but Thomas barely even looked up when he passed him. “No, stop.” He stretched out his arms and clumsily blocked his way so he couldn’t go inside. Thomas eyes widened and he looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

“What on earth do you think you are doing?”

“Blocking your way.” He said plainly, his arms still stretched out.

Thomas made to move again so Jimmy closed them in an embrace and held him in place. He was hugging him now, but it wasn’t gentle, particularly because he was locking his arms against his body in the tightest grip.

“No.” Jimmy insisted and frowned. But his own move and the way they were standing felt so unnatural and ridiculous that he felt laughter bubble up in his throat and escape him in a soft chuckle. And Thomas was the perfect balance between confused and distraught, but the absurdity got the better of him and when he saw Jimmy laughing, he laughed as well.

“Let me go, you dolt.” He wiggled his arms to no avail.

“Fine, but we’ll talk. Don’t ignore me like that, if I annoyed you, you have to tell me.” Jimmy was still holding him.

“You didn’t annoy me, it’s fine, Jimmy. We’re different, we don’t have to pretend, l’ll be alright.”

At that, his arms dropped.

“Pretend? Pretend what?”

“That you like me or tolerate me. I’m a big boy, I can manage on my own.”

“I don’t bloody _tolerate_ you, I love you Thomas, you are my best mate.” He said with bewildered eyes. “Jesus, look, you have me saying all this soppiness.” He cringed at himself.

“Am I?”

“Are you what?”

“Your best mate.” The beginning of a smile was there, though still too shy to be considered one.

“Yes. That’s why you have to let me know how to be better, or- or less daft. But don’t push me away, I can’t stand that bullshit.” He said angrily and pointed at him like a scold. Thomas looked pensively at him, then at the ground and nodded.

“Alright, fine.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“What can I do? To be a better friend, for you.”

“I don’t bloody know, I’ve never had someone care to be a good friend.” He laughed and rolled his eyes. Jimmy let out a huff of laughter. “Just don’t… don’t talk about it like we’re- like I’m some animal in a zoo. You sound too much like Mr Carson, I can’t bare it.” He said, more seriously.

Thomas had once taken a beating for him, and before that he’d gotten his heart broken into a million pieces within a single minute, but this felt the most vulnerable Jimmy had ever heard him.

“God, no, dully noted. Won’t be doing that again.” Jimmy spat. That earned the sweetest smile from Thomas and he finally thought he might have said something right.

When they walked back inside, Alfred was in the middle of a weak attempt at redeeming himself for his scandalous accident upstairs.

“I promise you, Mr Carson, the saucer just flew off the tray, I was holding it with perfect balance.”

“Yes, perfect balance at a ninety degree angle.” Jimmy mocked quietly but loud enough to be heard. When Thomas snickered beside him, he turned and winked at him. This is what he’d missed all day. Alfred shot him a nasty look.

“I’m telling you, I felt it jump, I couldn’t have dropped it, my hand was completely still.”

“That’s enough, Alfred.” Mr Carson cut in. “Such displays of clumsiness are bad enough for your case, we don’t need tales of inanimate objects coming to life added into the mix.” He frowned.

Alfred visibly held back his retort and huffed in frustration, turning to the plate in front of him to continue eating. Daisy looked ready to jump to his defence but one warning glare from Mrs Patmore was sufficient to refrain her.

It seemed someone had a knack for mischief in the house and was determined to keep them from continuous sleep because, not unlike the night before, something woke them all at the same time again. It wasn’t a screaming hall boy this time around, but the lights (that is _all_ the lights) had started flickering on and off for the better part of five minutes. Once people started to leave their rooms to check if this was happening outside as well, someone noticed that all the faucets from the bathrooms in the attic had also been opened. Many checked to see if the light bulbs had become loose, only to find them perfectly in place, while others went to stop the water streaming down the sinks, baths and toilets (all the flushing buttons were simultaneously stuck) and the remaining bunch stood discussing what was happening and who could be responsible. Thomas, Jimmy and Molesley were among this bunch.

“Could be a ghost.” Thomas teased. “They say they go crazy round Halloween time.” He smirked at Jimmy.

“Ooh, I very much doubt it.” Mr Molesley said with a frown. “Could a ghost manage to open a faucet? Wouldn’t their hands just pass through?” He cut the air horizontally with an open hand, as if to demonstrate. Thomas and Jimmy locked eyes and held back their laughter.

“Well, if it was a ghost, it was a very considerate one.” Mr Bates spoke quietly, coming back from the bathroom. “They didn’t wake Mr Carson.” He said with a small smile.

“Well, that’s for the best. We’d never hear the end of it if he lost sleep two nights in a week.” Jimmy complained.

“Let’s keep it that way, then.” Thomas ushered everyone back to their rooms and he did the same. He weren’t as old as Mr Carson, but sleep was no joke to him neither and he’d be no good the next day without more hours of rest. 

They were going to London for the weekend and Thomas was meant to stay and perform as butler while Carson was away, but that didn’t really work out because Mr Carson had gone down with a rather violent cold, which meant that he wasn’t fit to travel after all and Thomas had to cover for him in London, instead. Jimmy, as first footman, was also required to travel and Alfred would’ve stayed in Yorkshire, but he received a letter at the very last minute informing him that his uncle had passed, so he made the trip for the funeral. This resulted in a very chaotic outcome in which Mr Molesley was left in charge of Downton Abbey while everyone else left for London, where they would manage with a butler and a single footman well enough.

Jimmy, of course, was on could nine. Never mind if he had to put up with the workload of two people, he was nowhere near Mr Carson and far away from Alfred’s incessant nagging. He was happily polishing the last bits of silver that he needed to get done before leaving (a rather uncharacteristic mood when it came to doing his job), when Thomas popped in to ask for his help.

“Mr Bates was setting up His Lordship’s suitcase and it seems a pair of his dressing shoes got mistakenly put away with his riding boots. Could you please run down to the cellar and fetch them?”

“The cellar?”

“Yes, that’s where they’ve taken all the riding stuff for the season. They won’t be using it again for a few months.” He explained.

“I don’t know, Thomas. I hate that place, can’t you do it?” Jimmy whined.

“No, I can’t do it because I have a billion other things to attend to with Mr Carson gone. I’m asking this as a favour. Please?” He asked, impatiently.

“I don’t know, I really don’t fancy it. What if you come with me?” Jimmy asked, not to be a nuisance but because he genuinely was terrified of that cellar. It was cold, musty and it most certainly was filled with rodents, both alive and dead.

“I will give you two full days off in a row if you go in there alone. C’mon, Jimmy, I really can’t afford to even be having this conversation.” He said, hurriedly.

“I don’t think that’s enough. I’m not doing it.”

“Right. I’m over this, go and do it, now.” He said, drastically more sternly.

“Don’t tell me what to do, you’re not the boss of me.” Jimmy teased as a response to his tone.

“I literally am.”

“Are you pulling rank? That’s low, Mr Barrow.”

“You leave me no choice. Offer’s gone down, do it now and I won’t cancel your half day this week.” He pointed and winked

“Bloody hell. You’ll pay for this.” Jimmy huffed. That excited Thomas more than it scared him.

Upon arriving in London, they learnt that some of the servants’ rooms were being repaired, which left Mrs Baxter to share a room with Anna, Mrs Hughes offered to share with another maid, Bates on his own because the only company he enjoyed was that of his wife and not a single other soul, Daisy and Mrs Patmore because Ivy had stayed in the abbey as well, and Jimmy and Thomas with a room to themselves because they would gladly share a space with each other than with any of the hall boys. So, yes, cloud nine.

And thank God for that sleeping arrangement because this meant that when the loudest storm broke out at midnight, and all the electricity went out in the house, Jimmy didn’t have to endure it alone. Service was over and the servants had already had their dinner so, really, they should have been asleep already. But they, Thomas and Jimmy, that is, were playing cards and smoking the night away when the first lightning hit. Thomas payed it no mind but Jimmy remained alert for the thunder that soon followed. He wasn’t scared of storms, particularly, but since he was a child they made him terribly uneasy and this was only worsened after the war. Piled with the stress of such a quick paced day, no cigarettes were strong enough to calm his nerves.

“Are you alright? You keep fidgeting.” Thomas noticed, his cigarette dangling from his lips and bouncing as he spoke. He was holding the cards with his damaged hand and had taken his glove off. Jimmy couldn’t have known that it’d taken a lot of courage for him to do so in front of someone else and Thomas couldn’t have known that Jimmy was positively mesmerized by it. Jimmy cleared his throat.

“Hate storms.” He swallowed and arranged himself on the chair, eyes focused on the little table and played his hand.

“They scare you?” Thomas asked without judgement and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“No.” Jimmy frowned at him. “I just don’t like them.”

“My sister was terrified of them.” Thomas commented. It was so unlike him to offer information about his childhood that Jimmy felt a bit privileged for getting to hear about it. “Six years older than me, she was, but she would ask me to hold her hand through the night sometimes.”

“Wish I’d had a sibling to do that with. I would just run into my parent’s bedroom and then my dad would tell me to man up and fuck off. Real sweetheart, my dad.”

Thomas chuckled.

“They still get you now?”

“I was alright for a while, until the war.” He explained vaguely.

“Hm.”

They played some more and were about to call it a night when the power went off.

“What the fuck.” Jimmy’s trembling voice travelled in the dark from where he was standing at the foot of his bed. He was in the process of removing his shirt to change into his pyjamas, but the room went black right before Thomas could get a glimpse of his chest.

“Power must be out, I’ll go check the halls.” Thomas said from the table they had been playing on, where he was putting away the cards and emptying the ashtray.

“Like hell you will. Do not leave this room, Thomas.” Jimmy scolded. It was actually a desperate request, but he wasn’t going to let that show. Thomas white teeth reflected the moonlight seeping through the small window and that’s how Jimmy knew he was smiling. “Don’t mock me, it’s not funny.”

“I just want to know if it’s the whole house or just a problem with our circuits. And we need candles, we don’t have any in here.”

“Screw the blasted candles, Thomas. Stay here, please.” Alright, so he was letting it show a little.

“Fine, Jimmy, I will. It’s fine.” It was dark but Jimmy could see him gesturing with his arms for him to calm down.

“Thank you.” He said angrily and saw a flash of white teeth again.

They changed into their pyjamas each one facing opposite ways, even though none of them could see a thing, and laid down in their beds.

The storm was still going on strong outside and Jimmy was coming up with a billion different ways to distract himself from it, but they weren’t working too well.

“Wish I could read something, I never seem to catch my sleep until I read something.” Thomas said from beside him. When Jimmy didn’t answer, Thomas assumed he’d fallen asleep, so he turned and closed his eyes. But Jimmy’s eyes were wide open, it’s just that he was too busy counting to a hundred sheep. Several minutes passed and then the loudest thunder yet broke the quiet abruptly.

“ _Fuck_.” Jimmy jumped and his whole body tensed. He remembered his friend trying to sleep next to him and attempted to calm himself to no avail. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Thomas turned back to face him and saw him shaking a little from below the sheets, where he seemed to be hiding from the rain. He debated whether to say something or not, and then decided for it.

“Is there anything I can do?” He offered softly.

“Shit, sorry if I woke you.” Jimmy said, staring at the ceiling.

“You’re alright, I weren’t asleep.”

“It won’t get better till the morning.” Jimmy told him. “You can sleep, I’ll keep it down.”

“D’ya want to hold my hand?” Thomas said, ready to play it off as a joke when Jimmy took offense. But that didn’t happen because Jimmy didn’t respond for a few seconds.

“I’m not a child.” Is what he chose to say, after a while.

“I know you’re not.” Thomas took a careful pause. “But do you want to?”

Jimmy quarrelled with himself for a beat and finally stretched his arm slowly, still facing up. Thomas took his hand in his own.

“Don’t think anything of it.” Jimmy said, a little sharper than he’d intended to.

“You know I won’t.” Thomas fought back but not as harshly.

“No, I know. ‘M sorry” He muttered. Thomas just squeezed his hand as a response.

Jimmy didn’t relax, but he discovered that holding Thomas’ hand kept him restless for other reasons, and for better or worse, they took his mind off the resilient storm and the ominous thunders.

Because of the distance in between the two beds, Thomas’ arm strained a little, but he felt the warmth from where their palms linked take over his chest and body to wrap him up into the soundest of sleeps. Eventually, as though their joined hands made them one, Jimmy felt himself drift off to the rhythm of Thomas’ steady breathing.

The next morning, they rose to the morning call. Jimmy used dressing up as an excuse not to face Thomas and hide his blush. In the morning light, with the power back on and as the wet from the storm dried off, so did the justification for holding hands with his friend for the whole night through. To be fair, it was less awkward than Jimmy had expected it to be to wake up clutching to your mate for dear life. But after a nervous cough and a reassuring smile, it didn’t seem as odd as perhaps it should’ve. So, Jimmy was prepared to leave it be, knowing Thomas wouldn’t make anything of it and everything was splendid. Or it was, until it very much wasn’t. Thomas was finishing dressing when he spotted his cufflinks in the table closer to Jimmy’s bed, so he asked for them. They were both standing next to their own beds, but on opposite ends, which put the two beds in the space between them.

“Sure, here you go.” Jimmy said, and to pass them, he had to kneel in his bed and stretch his arm. Thomas did the same, but he couldn’t reach so they both rounded the beds and met in the middle. Thomas took the cufflinks, but Jimmy stood staring at the beds, deep in thought.

“Hang on.” He said with a frown and Thomas looked up from his wrists.

“What is it?”

“That’s not right, is it?”

“What isn’t?”

“Did you move the beds when I left for the bathroom?”

“No, why?”

“Lay on yours for a second.” Jimmy said, still studying the furniture.

“What?”

“Humour me, please.” Jimmy insisted and went back to stand next to his own.

“Jimmy, I’m already dressed, my uniform will crease. Why do you want me do that?”

“Because it’s not right.” He explained as he laid down the same as the night before.

“Yes, you said that.”

“Do it, Thomas, come on.” Thomas rolled his eyes but did as told.

“No, not like me, do it like you slept, go on.” Jimmy twirled his finger, motioning for him to turn. “Now stretch your arm, the same as last night,” He ordered, as he did too.

A chill ran down both their spines then. Because their hands weren’t touching. No, not just that, they weren’t even _close_.

“Dear God.” Thomas gasped.

“There’s no way. Are you sure that’s how you slept?”

“Yes, I’m sure, are _you_ sure?” Thomas shot back. 

“I _am_.” They locked eyes, mirroring their terror. “And you didn’t move the beds?” Jimmy accused.

“Didn’t you? Jimmy I swear if you’re pranking me I will have you sacked.”

“I’m not! Thomas, what the hell does this mean?” Jimmy asked as he grew more spooked by the second.

“Maybe one of us pushed them on accident when we were dressing.” Thomas thought aloud.

“That’s so not what happened. Go on, stand up and try to move the bed right now.” He dared, knowing all to well it was too heavy to be moved on accident. Thomas tried and proved his point. They shared a look.

“Jimmy, you felt my hand last night.”

“I did.” He said, standing up.

“And I felt yours.” Jimmy nodded. “How the hell is this possible?” Somehow, seeing Thomas this troubled made Jimmy all the more upset.

“Oh God, what’s happening, Thomas?” Jimmy shook his hands and pulled a face, like he was dusting off the fright.

“Alright. It’s alright, it’s alright.” He started pacing, though, kind of contradicting his point.

“Should we tell someone?” Jimmy asked.

Thomas looked at him and studied their possibilities.

“Tell them what? That we held hands all night but now it turns out that they weren’t our hands because we-”

“No. No, no. You’re right.” Telling anyone that they held hands in the night seemed more terrifying than the paranormal debacle itself. If that’s even what it was. They remained quiet, their minds scattering to possible explanations, each one scarier than the other.

“Well, we’re gonna be late so we should go down.” Thomas said, finally.

They shared one more look, conveying all the confusion, the slight panic, and their lack of explanation, and made their way to the hall.

Like they’d agreed, they didn’t discuss any of it with anyone. But if they’d had, maybe they would’ve learned that Lizzie and Olivia, two of the younger maids, had woken up to a giant mess in their room. Clothes that had been carefully put away all discarded on the floor, their belongings on the desk all in disarray, the lamp that used to be on the far corner thrown over all the way to the door and the windows completely shut, leaving no possibility for the wind to have caused such chaos.

Alas, that was not the case, so each pair went all day spooked out of their minds, performing their duties absentmindedly and taking double the time for it. Slowly but surely, it became night-time again and Thomas and Jimmy found their way back to the room, both at the same time because they refused to visit it on their own.

“What are we doing tonight, then?” Jimmy asked, addressing the issue for the first time since the morning.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m not risking it. I’ve been thinking and I think we should put the beds together, side by side, like so.” He motioned to the beds.

“Do you really think it wise?” Thomas worried.

“Thomas, something- or someone, or God knows _what_ \- got in between our beds last night and _held our hands_.” He paused after every word, over articulating so as to stress his point, and looking desperately at him. “Do you understand that? I’m not going through that again, storm or no storm.” 

“Fine, fine. Let’s get this night stand out of the way and push them together.”

They did and then pushed Thomas’ bed closer to Jimmy’s, which was a two man job and even then, quite a heavy one.

“And I’m leaving one light on. I’m sorry, but if _whatshisface_ is coming back, I want to see it.”

“Jimmy, please, not the light. I can’t bloody sleep with a light on, I’m not five.”

“I’m not five either, but I’m pissing myself with fear, Thomas.” Jimmy hissed, his body so tensed and his face so pinched that his curls bounced a little when he spoke. Thomas found it endearing and sad that he really was so affected by this.

“It’ll be worse with the lights on, you’ll scare yourself with every shadow, trust me.” Thomas reasoned. Jimmy actually considered it and finally said,

“We’ll try it both ways, but if I want the light we’ll do the light and that’s the end of that.”

“You’re a stubborn one.” Thomas muttered as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“I heard that.” Jimmy retorted as he took off his shoes.

Once in their pyjamas they each got on their own mattress and fiddled with the covers until they got comfortable. The picture was rather domestic, the beds making one big one looked and felt the most comfortable either of them had slept in in years and having someone so close made it that much cosier. Although it was not all well and dandy. Jimmy was actually at war with himself about the morality of going to sleep with another man, but figuring it was his best mate (yes, his _queer_ best mate but never mind that) and it ultimately was better than holding hands with the devil, he got past it.

They tried the lights on and off, settling for off because _yes, that chair casts an awful shadow from that angle, you were right, turn it off now please_ and attempted to catch some sleep. The key word being ‘attempt’ because a cat chose that exact moment to make base on top of the little awning that covered their window and started performing the Ave María. The noise was hellish enough but as soon as the cat jumped off and his silhouette flashed through the window, Jimmy startled and curled up to Thomas, right were the beds met.

“Bugger all, I’m sorry but we’re cuddling tonight, mate.” He mumbled into his chest.

“I-Uh…what?” Thomas held his arm up, the one not being crushed by Jimmy, not daring to believe what was happening and refusing to touch his friend until he did.

“I’m just not cut out for this. Don’t care if it makes me a ninny. Just don’t think too much off it, please.” He begged and frowned, though Thomas couldn’t see because his face was buried in his neck.

“I won’t.” He whispered, unconvinced, and slowly lowered his arm to sort of hug him by his middle.

No one said a word more and it only took about eight uncomfortable minutes for Thomas to break the silence.

“Is this me paying for sending you down to the cellar?”

“We’ll call it that, yes.” Jimmy said and punched him slightly in the ribs, where his arm was just resting. Then he settled again, and they were able to relax into their embrace to finally fall asleep.

The night went by without too much fuss and they awoke the next morning in a bundle of limbs and misleading emotions. As it turns out, waking up in the arms of Thomas Barrow left Jimmy feeling things far spookier than any Halloween hunting extravaganza.

This time around it took more than just a smile and a cough for them to shake off the awkward, so they dressed in silence and avoided each other’s gazes during breakfast. In the haste to prepare everything for the trip back, anything amiss went unnoticed by the rest of the staff.

The trip itself went smoothly and quickly. Thomas and Jimmy originally sat together on the train but when Jimmy’s sleepy head kept lolling down on Thomas’ shoulder, the under-butler stood and spent the rest of the journey pacing around the wagon to avoid further awkwardness. As soon as he did, Jimmy stopped pretending to fall asleep and stared angrily and restlessly out the window until they arrived at the station.

They ran into Alfred as they walked into the abbey, who coincidentally just got back from his unfortunate escapade a few minutes before them. He willingly rushed to put on his livery and help Thomas and Jimmy unpack.

They were in the boot room putting things away when Daisy hurried by and he remembered he had a message to give.

“Oh, Daisy, I have something to tell you.” He called and Daisy’s whole face lit up as she stopped on her tracks.

“Yes, Alfred?” She blushed and fiddled with her apron.

“There was a bloke waiting on the hall when I came in. He said to wish you a happy birthday and to send you his love.” Alfred spoke softly. “I didn’t know t’was your birthday.”

“It is, yeah. But who were him?” She squinted her eyes and scrunched up her nose, trying not to smile.

“Well, happy birthday then.” Alfred smiled and she blushed deeper.

“Happy birthday, Daisy.” Thomas and Jimmy said almost in unison, taking her attention away from Alfred if only for a second.

“Thanks, boys.” She smiled at them.

“William, his name was.” Alfred said looking down at the little box of polishing supplies he was tidying up.

Daisy’s whole demeanour changed suddenly, and Thomas’ head snapped up to glare at him.

“What?” Her voice barley carried.

“Do you think that’s funny then?” Thomas said, and for the first time in years it sounded as nasty as he used to be before O’Brien left. Alfred looked up and his eyebrows reached his hairline.

“Have I said something wrong?” He looked at him and then at Daisy.

“Drop the act, now.” Thomas spat and that caught Jimmy’s attention, who had been distractedly listening while struggling to find the lid of a jar. “You won’t like what’s coming to you if you keep messing with her.” He threatened as a sudden wave of protectiveness towards Daisy overtook him. She was still standing in the doorway, pale and small and battling with several layers of emotions.

“What act, Mr Barrow? I’m not messing about. Is this William not a nice fellow?” He asked, impossibly confused.

“What did he look like, Alfred?” Daisy finally asked, her tone just above a whisper.

“He’s toying with you, Daisy. You’ll be wise to ignore him.” Thomas warned.

“I am not!” Alfred countered defensively. “He was ‘bout as tall as me shoulder, blonde, had more chin than face if I’m honest-” He breathed a quiet chuckle that no one else shared and Daisy let out a squeal of sorrow before running away.

“Daisy?” Alfred called out.

“Go check on her.” Thomas ordered Jimmy, who wasn’t sure what was playing out but did as told. “You.” Thomas pointed at Alfred and closed the distance between them. Alfred backed away and held his palms out, but Thomas swatted them away and grabbed him by his lapels to slam him against the wall. The height difference was almost comical, but Thomas had him trapped and shaking. He spoke quietly and slowly, bringing out nearly 30 years’ worth of spite in a single speech.

“You are going to let her know it was just a sick joke and never attempt something like that again, understood? We like our fun in this house but some lines you do not cross, do I make myself clear?”

“Mr Barrow, please, I don’t know what you mean. It’s no joke. The bloke was sitting in the hall when I came in, said he wanted to speak to Daisy, but he couldn’t find her. I’d never seem him before so I thought it was a bit strange that he’d just walked in but- and then I told him she was away so he said his name was William and asked me to wish her a happy birthday and send her his love, sounded real honest, too.” He nodded fervently.

Thomas’ certainty faltered for a second, so he put him down and Alfred breathed a sigh of relief.

“William was the name of her sweetheart. They were married for like three hours before he died. He was a footman ‘ere before he was a soldier in the war.” Thomas explained more calmly, considering what Alfred was saying.

“Oh.” He nodded in sympathy. “Did he look a lot like the one I described?”

“It sounded very much like he was the one you described.” Thomas told him bitterly.

“I didn’t know.” They stayed in silence for a while, both of them too shaken up to say anything. Jimmy came back then, looking a little distressed.

“She went to her room, but she was really out of sorts.” He motioned back with his thumb. “Said this might be her dead husband coming back to wish her a happy birthday.” Jimmy grimaced.

“Don’t mock her.” Thomas defended, once more.

“I’m not, honest. She was a proper mess. Do you think there’s a chance she’s right?” He spoke only to Thomas.

“That I talked to a ghost?!” Alfred shirked.

The gong rang, which meant they had other things to see to, so that was the extent of that discussion.

The power went out once again in the middle of the servants’ dinner. The family had already gone to bed, so no fuss there, but their meal had been interrupted. Jimmy was asked to fetch the candles and Thomas heroically butted in and offer to go with him. Because the candles were conveniently stocked in the cellar, the darkest, creepiest place in the house, so that when such emergencies occur, one had to choose between remaining comfortably in the dark or taking a trip to the Devil’s Den in search for dim lighting.

Given their recent interaction with the afterlife, neither were enthusiastic about this errand but they persevered and made their way through the creaky, wooden door and down the little stairs. They had taken the only candle at the table and were making due with what little luminosity it provided, when the door slammed shut behind their backs and a sourceless wind blew out their candle, wrapping them in darkness.

“Shite.” Jimmy muttered and blindly reached out to grab Thomas’ arm.

“Hang on, I have my lighter.” He started fumbling in his pocket until he found it. He lit it and their shadowed faces looked at each other for comfort. But this time, his lighter was knocked out of his hand with unexpected force and, once again, it was pitch black.

“Oh, what the hell?” Jimmy’s voice shook and he stepped closer.

“I’ve lost my marbles.” Thomas whispered to himself and took a deep breath.

“What?”

“Right,” He spoke more loudly. “William, if that’s you, mate, I’m sorry, I’m sorry for everything. Truly. You don’t know how sorry I am.” His tone was weak, his hair had gone loose on his forehead, and his arms were extended outwards. “But, _please_ , stop this.” His voice cracked. “I promise I’ll pay for everything once I’m over on your side, you’ll see. But not now, alright?” His eyes were scanning the room as if looking for anything particularly ghost-shaped to talk to. Jimmy spoke, then.

“Look,” Jimmy joined him, more willing to see the sense in this than Thomas was. “William, man, I don’t know you and I don’t think you know me. But... I know Mr Barrow, I’m sure he doesn’t deserve-”

“No, no- I deserve it.” Thomas clarified with a frown.

“Ah, well. In that case _I_ don’t think I do. And-”

“No, you deserve it a little bit.” He pursed his lips and shook his head from side to side.

“Hey.” Jimmy whined.

The lights came back on then and they both cheered and expressed their gratitude aloud just in case it had something to do with that. They still searched for the candles just in case the events repeated themselves in the near future but found none. So, having come all this way in vain, they headed back up only to find the door locked. Not by them, surely not by anyone out there, just locked. They cursed and meddled with it and cursed some more to no avail. They screamed for help a few times, but with the hall so far away and the lights back on, no one was likely to hear them. Close to fifteen minutes they spent trying to get out, and Thomas wordlessly took a mental note of how much time him and Jimmy could disappear together before someone noticed. For future reference. Sometimes these things could evolve into valuable information.

After those fifteen minutes, though, they gave up and sat down on the floor, against a wall. They smoked one cigarette in comfortable silence, now more at peace with the unpredictable but otherwise harmless ghost.

“I think I was right, you know?” Jimmy confessed after they finished smoking.

“No, that really can’t be, it’s totally unprecedented.”

“Piss off, I’m serious.”

“How so?”

“About, you know, how being friends with two blokes like you makes me sort of-”

“It really doesn’t mean anything, Jimmy. We’ve been through this. Everyone I know is like your sort and that doesn’t make me any less the way I am.”

“Right, but-”

“Please, can we just drop it.” He interrupted.

“No, I’m saying-” But he got cut off again.

“You have it all wrong, though, you must see how-” Jimmy interrupted for a change.

“Alright, how about this?” He said, a bit breathless. “I’ve been picturing you naked for about a month now. And enjoying it. Does that also mean nothing or...? Because if it’s all dandy then I’ll just go and find me a nice girl from the village.” He paused. “Somehow I think that’s just not gonna cut it.” He clapped his hands once with finality, feigning nonchalance. Thomas gaped at Jimmy’s wide, expectant eyes and lost himself in the confession he had just witnessed.

“Huh?” He asked, eloquently.

“Do not make me say it again.” Jimmy warned.

“But- So… Are you, hmm-’’ He cleared his throat and sat straighter against the wall. “are you attracted to me?”

“Yes.” Jimmy nodded once. “Very much. And I have been waiting for you to notice for a while now.”

“How long have you known?” Thomas asked, curious and not quite grasping the reality of the conversation.

“I mean, I- I only realised like a day ago, but I figured you’d notice far sooner what with you being so clever and me being a bit of a halfwit.” He grimaced but smiled at the same time and it should’ve been an ugly expression but to Thomas, Jimmy had never looked prettier.

“Jimmy, if this is some Halloween bullshit-”

Jimmy snickered.

“It’s not. What does this have to do with Halloween?”

“Because I’m terrified out of my mind that you’re taking the piss.” Thomas laughed.

“I’m not.” Jimmy said, looking him in the eye. Then his gaze travelled south, and he noticed that he had involuntarily shifted closer, because it would only take the slightest movement for their lips to meet.

Thomas leaned in slowly, but went sideways, gracing Jimmy’s cheek with his own until he reached his ear and placed the softest kiss on the high point of his cheekbone. Jimmy felt his whole body shiver and his heart went into overdrive. Thomas pecked him again, this time lower on his cheek and then a third time on the corner of his mouth. Jimmy kept frozen in place, not wanting to break the moment with the faintest move. When Thomas lingered on his lips, Jimmy lost all sense of control and surged forward. Their first (second?) kiss started soft and got gradually more intense as hands cupped cheeks and roamed hair and caressed arms and chests.

“Oh my god.” Jimmy breathed on Thomas’ lips. “I just kissed you.” Thomas laughed. “You’re a man.” Jimmy concluded.

“Terribly observant.”

“I just kissed you and you are a man.”

Thomas met his eyes to make sure no existential crisis was taking place.

“But you’re my man.” Jimmy whispered, almost to himself, as if Thomas wasn’t meant to hear.

“I’m your man.” The way Jimmy startled at his words confirmed his suspicions.

They dove back in and Thomas was shifting in place to get Jimmy lying down on his back when a soft _click_ cut through the noise of their heavy breathing. It came from the door and they both parted slightly to look at it. It didn’t open and no one stepped through, so they looked back at each other and very reluctantly stood up. As they dusted themselves off and straightened their clothes, they locked eyes and nearly went for it again, headfirst. But Thomas was the voice of reason and held Jimmy at a distance with his hands on his waist.

“We should get back out. Dinner must be over by now.” His voice was hoarse and with his forehead pressed against Jimmy’s and eyes closed for self-control, it was obvious he wanted nothing less. Jimmy cleared his throat, and they crossed the cellar to try the door. Predictably, it opened easily, and they made their way back to the hall. They had to explain their tardiness and the lack of candles to Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes, the only ones left at the table. Carson, disbelieving but too tired to argue, ordered Thomas to take a walk into town tomorrow and fetch some from the store, which Thomas accepted gladly, as he preferred it to being stuck inside all day. Jimmy reminded him that tomorrow was also his day off, which meant they could go together. That night there were no ghostly interruptions.

The next morning, after breakfast and when everyone was scattered around the house, Thomas stood by the stairs as Jimmy ran up to change a shirt he’d stained with jam. They were about to make their way into town and Thomas was finishing wrapping his scarf while he waited when Daisy walked out of the kitchen.

“Thomas, do you think me stupid?” She asked shyly.

“Never that, Daisy. Why?”

“For believing t’was William who Alfred saw.”

“No, I don’t think you are. You may be right, even.”

“I do hope so.” She mused. “I wanted to thank you, though, for standing up for me.” She smiled and Thomas returned it. Jimmy came strutting down before they could continue chatting.

“Here we are, then.” He was saying to no one in particular, kind of loud and singsong-y. “Brand new, ready to go. Where is my man?” He looked up once he reached the ground and froze when he saw Daisy. “Oh.”

Thomas closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool.

“Your man?” Daisy asked, amused. “Who is your man?” She looked at Thomas to poke fun at Jimmy together, but when she saw his reaction her face changed.

“Ooooh.” She looked away from them both. “Bye, then” She squealed, incredibly high pitched, and disappeared back into the kitchen.

“You have a Deathwish.” Thomas told Jimmy as they exited the abbey.

“Sorry.” He apologised, sheepishly. He looked around the empty gardens, stopped on a cushion of autumn leaves and rose to his tiptoes to peck Thomas on the cheek. He blushed but kept on walking.

“Yeah, whatever. Happy Halloween.”

**Author's Note:**

> The bit where they hold hands during the night but in the morning they can't reach is totally snatched from a short tale called 'Manos' (hands) by author Elsa Bornemann. If you haven't read it, I highly suggest you do, it's one of my favourites. Hope you enjoyed! Happy spooky season.


End file.
